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Her face went blank, like she couldn’t possibly understand why I would ask such a thing, but she shrugged her shoulders and replied, “Because life is hard on the outside. Some of us are overdue on rent and are a week away from being homeless. There are a few girls in this room that don’t even have homes. To live here means a full stomach and a roof over your head. The clothes and clean linens are just a bonus.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Vera leaned forward, her gaze shifting to the ground. “Regardless of the price we pay, we all sell our bodies in one way or another—whether it be for sport, or labor, or sex.” Her gaze met mine, a fire lit within in her eyes. “As women in a man’s world, we do what we must to keep ourselves afloat.”
I nodded, my tongue at a loss for words.
Although Vera did not carry one of the traditional six Curses, she carried another—not one, but two: the curse of poverty and the curse of being born as a “lesser” gender.
And although the curses were out of our control, we both were fighting our way through this unforgiving world, just as she said—just trying to stay afloat.
A bustle of voices came from the doorway, birthing fifteen girls who looked tired, as if they had just poured their souls into their performances.
But now, I understood.
These women were warriors, fighting for their survival.
The smell of jasmine and lavender wafted into my nose as we entered the warm, steamy atmosphere of the bathhouse. Harper shot me a good-luck nod before she headed to the far end, a basket of rose petals nestled in her arms.
I plucked a wash rag from the nearby shelf and began my dreaded tour.
Four hairy backs later, I rubbed my throbbing wrist as I listened to the balding male complain about his wife. The way he spoke about her, I wondered why they bothered to stay married at all. Apart from his marriage woes, I had learned that he was the commander of the second platoon and that hepersonallyknew the king’s advisor.
I schooled my features in girly delight and inquired more about theoh so famousadvisor. The man boasted on about him, clearly enjoying how I lapped everything up.
With a bit of gentle pressure, he divulged that the king’s advisor had been away on official court business for the past three weeks but was expected back for an important meeting tomorrow evening, and after, he would most likely attend the bathhouse to “blow off some much-needed steam.”
I choked back a gag at the choice of words he used. Instead, I smiled softly, like a little doll—pliant, moldable . . . everything he wished his wife would be.
Inside, I was bursting. This was it—we were so close to finding out where Kaleb was.
But my internal victory was quickly squashed. He leaned in, his putrid breath sweeping towards me as he inquired if I would escort him to the private baths.
I poked his hairy shoulder.
He didn’t move.
I eyed the small vial—did I overdo do it? I poked him again.
His mouth popped open and he let out a gallant snore.
Okay, good—so not dead then.
I raised from my squatted position, dusting my hands off and mentally congratulating myself on a job well done.
The private bathing chambers were small, intimate, and extremely hot due to the steam produced by the water thrown over the flame-heated rocks. I dabbed my brow as I walked out the door and into the hallway, the change in temperature hitting me instantly.
One of the guards leaned against the shiny, slick marble wall, his eyes shifting towards me, a bushy brow shooting up. “Done so soon?”
“I think he might have had one too many of these.” I pretended to throw a drink back.
The man chuckled. “They always do. Have a good rest of your night, miss.”
“You too,” I replied pleasantly as I walked down the corridor, the irony of our small talk dawning on me—was I growing used to this place?
I paused mid step when I reached the hallway that led to the room we waited in. I glanced to my left, looking down the unexplored hallway, wondering where the private chambers were.
Several minutes later and after a good deal of wandering, I realized I was most definitely lost. I took a right when I probably should have taken a left, and I had done that more times than I could count. Even the echoing voices in the main bath had long since died out. I sighed loudly. I was starting to feel like a mouse trapped in a maze.
